Lost Thoughts
by FaItHzAnGeL
Summary: Ever wonder what Faith was thinking when she became evil? I did.


TITLE: Lost Thoughts  
AUTHOR: Fernando  
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine they belong to Joss and co (*sigh*) so don't sue!   
SUMMARY: Um...just some thoughts from Faith during Consequences  
RATING: PG for language--mild violence  
SPOILERS: Season 3--"Consequences" and "Bad Girls"  
DISTRIBUTION: If you'd like it, hey it's yours just let me know first! :-)  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first Faith fic, and the first fic I write in   
first person. So if it sucks, hey sorry. Feedback please, I live for   
feedback, lol.   
  
  
  
"Lost Thoughts"  
"Consequences-Season Three"  
By: Fernando Rangel  
  
  
  
"Its just, look at you Faith. No less than 24 hours ago, you killed a   
man and now its zipity-doo-dah. That's not your real face and I know it.   
Look I know what you're feeling cause I'm feeling it too." I close my eyes   
as I stand on the freighter waiting for it to set sail. Buffy hadn't a clue   
about how I felt. I close my eyes her words ringing in my ear like the icy   
wind that sent chills down my spine. "Dirty. Like something sick creeped   
inside and you can't get it out. And you keep hoping that it was just some   
nightmare but it wasn't..."  
  
God did she have to make such a big deal; do the whole drama queen   
bit? It wasn't a stage show on Broadway; I killed a guy. "You gotta keep   
your head here B, it's all goin' ta blow over in a few days."   
  
"And if it doesn't?" She looked at me and for a second I saw concern   
for me, but then I realized she was worried about her own ass. "And if it   
doesn't they got a freighter leaving the dock at least twice a day, it ain't   
fancy but it gets ya gone." She went at it again in panic, "And that's it?   
You just live with it. You see a dead guy in your head every day for the   
rest of your life?" She got on my nerves, why didn't she get it. "Buffy,   
I'm not going to see anything. I missed the mark last night and I'm sorry   
about the guy, I really am, but it happens. Anyways, how many people do you   
think we've saved by now? Thousands? And haven't you stopped the world form   
ending? Because in my book that puts you and me in the plus column." Her   
winy voice went on, "We help people, it doesn't mean we can do whatever we   
want!" I shrugged my shoulders and honestly asked, "Why not? The guy I   
offed was no Gandhi, I mean we just saw he was mixed up in dirty dealings."   
Then she told me in her fucking 'better than thou' tone, "Maybe, but what if   
he was coming to us for help."   
  
"What if he was? You're still not seeing the big picture here B.   
Something made us different, we're warriors, we're built to kill." I replied   
hoping that she gets it; we're like sisters-she should get this. It's not   
about anybody else but us. And I'm wrong. "To kill demons! But it does not   
mean we get to pass judgment on people like we're better than everyone else."  
  
Frustrated I felt like tugging at my hair and snapped, "We are   
better!" I calmed down and watched as she stared at me with disbelief; it   
was true and she had to face it. "That's right. Better. People need us to   
survive. In the balance, nobody's gonna cry over some random bystander who   
got caught in the crossfire." She looked at me with her green eyes, pain   
filled, hurt and it tears me up even now, "I am." I closed my eyes and   
headed back to the little hotel I called home, "Well that's your loss." I   
turned and walked away. Later Xander came to see me and all hell broke   
loose. I got whacked in the head with a baseball bat and then Wes tries to   
take me England, fucking prick. And here I am, at the docks waiting for the   
ship to take off. The sooner I get out of here the better.   
  
I wait on the deck staring out into the black waters, and the starless   
night wondering about what could have been-strange, it's the first time I   
actually think about what my life would be like if I weren't the   
Slayer-prolly some druggie like half the kids in my neighborhood. I crane my   
neck because I hear footsteps. They're too dainty to be the captain's   
footsteps, or the cops. I look over the rail and I see her blond head. "You   
never give up." She whips around and relaxes. "Not on my friends. No."  
  
I start walking down, "Ya cause we're such solid buds right." I set   
my bag down and listen to her, "We could be. It's not too late." I roll my   
eyes, "For me to be more like you ya mean? Little Ms. Goody-two-shoes? It   
ain't gonna happen B."   
  
"Faith nobody's asking you to be like me. But you can't go on like   
this."   
  
"It scares you doesn't it?"  
  
"Ya it scares me. Faith you're hurting people, you're hurting   
yourself."  
  
I climb down and land, "That's not it. That's not what bothers you so   
much. What bugs you is you know I'm right. You know deep down in your gut   
we don't need the law, we are the law."  
  
"No."  
  
I follow her knowing that things would never be the same; how I wanted   
them to be the same. "Yes you know exactly what I'm about cause you have it   
in you too."  
  
"No, Faith you're sick.  
  
"I've seen it B, you've got the lust, and I'm not talkin' about   
screwin' vampires."  
  
"Don't you dare bring him into this."  
  
"It was good wasn't it? The sex, the danger, I bet a part of you even   
dug it when he went psycho." I grin at her, because I can see it in here   
eyes, she knows I'm telling the truth.  
  
She pauses for a long beat, as if she were searching for the truth of   
what I'm saying and then she says, "No." She's trying to run from it.  
  
"See you need me to toe the line cause you're afraid you might go over   
it aren't ya B. You can't handle me livin' my own way and having a blast   
cause it tempts you, you know it could be you." She punches me. She punched   
me; the blond bitch punched me, and I like it; I touch the corner of my mouth   
and grin, and slyly I reply, "There's my girl."  
  
"No. I'm not going to do this..."  
  
"Why not? It feels good, blood rising..." She pushes me out of the way   
as the crate, that weighs God knows what, falls on top of her. I look at her   
and try and help-then the vamps come and try to take me on. I fight them off   
easy-chumps think they can take me. I start to bolt and I watch as Mr. Trick   
takes Buffy down. Throws her around like trash. Something clicks inside,   
that should be me.   
  
Trick has her pinned down-he's grinning, the bastard, and I stake him.   
The dust settles down, and Trick is gone. I see the staring face of Buffy   
as she looks at me with her pain filled green eyes and it tears me up inside;   
nothing would ever be the same for me again.  
  
The whole way back I was silent, Buffy didn't offer any chitchat,   
which was fine with me. I wasn't really sure about what I was doing or   
getting myself into. I stare at the wooden door thinking back about my life   
here in Sunnydale-my life as the *other* slayer. The more I thought about it   
the more I realized what I had to do. If I stayed here in Sunnydale-or hell   
if I left and went to another part of the country, a blond bitch'd still   
haunt me; always trying to prove she was better than me. She thinks that   
she's so powerful, so much better than me; it makes me sick. I should have   
let Trick kill her. But like I felt before that should have been me. It   
should have been me who whaled on Buffy; it should have been me who almost   
got the better of her. And it was going to be me to kill her.   
  
He opened the door; I stare at the mayor and he looks at me with   
disbelief. "You sent your boy to kill me." He nods and replies, "That's   
right. I did." I sneer and say, "He's dust." He nods again, "I thought he   
might be, what with you standing here and all." I'm already a killer; they   
already see me as a killer. There's no way I can be the Slayer like everyone   
wants me to be. I'm not Buffy; everyone knows that. I'm Faith; I'm a bad   
girl. I'm a murderer; a killer-no one cares about killers. I look at him   
and realize that this changes everything. It alters the course of history;   
it alters the course of my fate, my destiny...and I don't care. I don't care   
about anything-I'm empty and hollow inside. I don't care about the guy I   
offed, I don't care about Buffy. I don't care about her fucking Scooby Gang,   
and her stupid Watchers. I don't care about anything-I'm empty and hollow   
inside.   
  
Maybe being the good girl was all Buffy could do that she did better   
than anybody else in the world, but me? I'm the bad girl-and nobody's   
bitchier than I am; I do being bad better than anybody else in the world.   
"I...guess that means you have a job opening." He grins and moves out of   
the way and lets me into the office. Things will never be the same for me   
again and I don't care; I don't care about anything-I'm empty and hollow   
inside.   
  
  
  



End file.
